


Let Go

by subspacecommunication (nattherat)



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Alien Biology, Episode Related, Light Angst, Multi, Porn With Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-08
Updated: 2014-10-08
Packaged: 2018-02-20 10:54:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,158
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2426141
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nattherat/pseuds/subspacecommunication
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set during Season 1, Episode 16: If Wishes Were Horses. The visiting aliens dig deeper into Julian's sexual interests than he's prepared for.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Let Go

**Author's Note:**

> Uses this Trill redesign: http://subspacecommunication.tumblr.com/tagged/trill and this Cardassian redesign: http://subspacecommunication.tumblr.com/tagged/cardassian

“Garak, _please_ ,” Bashir pleaded. _Begged_.

 

The talons kneading his inner thigh moved round to cup his abdomen, claws pressing menacingly. Sharp teeth scraped over his shoulder, and the hard Cardassian military uniform pressed into his back painfully.

 

“Silence. This is what you want, isn't it boy?”

 

“N-no, I-” A loud moan escaped him as Garak's hand found the cleft of his backside, and he bit his lip hard. His body trembled, torn between interest and embarrassment, feelings that only intensified when Jadzia swept around to pet him. _Oh God_. He couldn't manage it, couldn't handle being groped by rough Cardassian claws, being caressed by smooth Trill bristles.

 

“P-please....!”

 

“Julian shhh. It's going to be all right.” Jadzia cupped his face with her antennae, locking their eyes, and Bashir felt himself start to lose his grip on rationality. She was just so gorgeous. Everything in his vision shimmered from her, and he stammered half-hearted protests as she nuzzled him, cooing gently.

 

A painful bite to his shoulder snapped him out of his reverie with a cry, claws beginning to dig into his skin. He bucked despite himself, knowing in one sorry moment that he wanted Garak to throw him down and fuck him into the floor. He almost laughed with the realisation, but the Cardassian grabbed his hair and pulled his head back, growling against his neck.

 

“I am going to take you for my own, boy. You are going to scream for me.”

 

Julian gasped as he hit the ground, Garak's weight settling on his back almost immediately, claws curling around his hips. He only managed an incoherent moan instead of the plea he intended, the Cardassian's central ridge pressing all the way down his spine and backside, stimulating him at the slightest movement. He was trapped, caught like prey. Garak was right, it was _exactly_ what he wanted.

 

“You will scream for me,” Garak repeated, biting at Julian's shoulders, his arms, the back of his neck. “I will mark you until no other _dares_ to go near you. Until you are _entirely mine._ ”

 

“Don't worry Julian,” Jadzia circled round them both, darting in and out to nuzzle areas Garak had left open until he hissed at her and dug his claws in possessively. “I'll always patch you up. Always make sure you're safe.”

 

Not for the first time, Bashir felt alarm between ragged gasps of arousal. He knew things weren't right. That every time he began to relax into the fantasy, one of the figments would say something that... might be alluring in fantasy, but became deeply disturbing when spoken out loud.

 

Garak's claws dug into his hips, his body rutting against his backside, his tongue tasting his neck. Julian _ached_ , pressed against the carpet with no way to move, no means of escape. But that was the point, wasn't it? That was what all of this was about. Pain, pleasure. Dominance, submission. This had happened, because he didn't know what he wanted. Didn't believe what he wanted. Couldn't fathom submitting to someone, yet wanted Garak to push him over his measuring table and...

 

He choked down another moan as he grew harder, pleasure beginning to boil within him. He felt Garak's teeth break the skin, and gave the exclamation the Cardassian was looking for, unable to restrain his vocalisations any more. Jadzia settled her head by his, which Garak seemed to allow, and Julian felt himself twitch close to the edge, being watched by Dax.

 

“Julian...”

 

His vision filled with shimmering blue, and a soothing voice that distracted from the pain in his shoulder and the pressure on his back. A voice that called for him to fall further into this fantasy, to give in to the wonderful things Garak was doing to him.

 

“Embrace it, Julian. Embrace us. Doesn't it feel good?”

 

Bashir knew he was starting to drool, completely overwhelmed by the situation, ragged moans escaping his throat every time Garak brought his teeth down on it. The jutting pelvic scales Julian could feel through both their uniforms rubbed his arse raw, and _God_ it was good. He bit his lip and groaned with each thrust, thinking of another part of Garak's he would like pressed into him.

 

“ _Impatient creature,_ ” Julian was rewarded with a sharp, agonising, _wonderful_ bite to the other shoulder. “Don't think I don't know what goes through your little mind.”

 

Jadzia curled round him, bristles brushing over him, soft touches over his bleeding shoulder, over his neck, painting red over his cheek. Her head came to rest by his again, and he panted out a whisper of her name, _so close_. He strained against the carpet, bubbling on the edge, so close he could _feel_ the readying twinges in his prick. A purple tip caressed his lips, pressing inwards.

 

“Let me in Julian,” Jadzia's sweet tones surrounded him as Garak locked his jaws around Julian's neck, crushing him into the floor.

 

“And let go.”

 

-

 

When he was aware of himself again, he was stiff, aching, ashamed, and... alone. Of course.

 

Julian rolled over to his back slowly, his body protesting, feeling – as his legs shifted – the damning evidence of his excitement in his underwear. He groaned loudly. No-one could hear him after all, the figments would vanish as suddenly as they would arrive, and Jadzia and Garak had obviously left as soon as he was done.

 

Good.

 

Even with figments, he didn't fancy the “morning-after” talk about this one.

 

He prepared himself to rise, his trousers feeling too soiled to stay as he was. Everything was still in working order and, lifting a hand to his shoulders and neck, his uniform was still in one piece. No blood smeared his cheek, and he already knew there would be no bruises to heal. All he felt was the imagined pain of a fantasy.

 

Slowly, he crawled onto trembling knees, indulging his need to vocally express his discomfort with every movement. He really _really_ didn't want to think about it, didn't want to assess it. Didn't want to consider why... and when his fantasies had become so... intense. Why he'd went from wanting to take Jadzia to dinner and then leisurely explore her body, to being pinned down, controlled, _ordered_ , by both she and Garak. _Garak_ , of all people.

 

Julian shivered, and for once he couldn't identify whether it was from his thoughts or his physical state.

 

By the time he'd stumbled over to the bathroom, shedding his sweaty uniform and collapsing against the wall of the sonic shower, he'd already decided that it was obviously a spur of the moment thing. That he was just taken in by the thought of unexplored sexual territory, because who isn't? Garak simply... represented a part of that. The dangerous Cardassian spy, of course he would take that aggressive role in the fantasy. It was an easy fit, and that was all there was to it.

 

_God, how was he going to face them tomorrow...?_

**Author's Note:**

> Er, I hope you enjoyed this! Ever since I first saw that episode, I always wanted it to actually push Julian out of his narrow heteronormative box, rather than just reaffirm him within it. Honestly this is such a short fic that this doesn't really do that either, but the idea is there...!


End file.
